


my, your wisteria

by arleaux



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Bokuto Koutarou is something else, Bokuto no, Canon Compliant, Flower theft, Fluff and Humor, Konoha I’m so sorry, Love Confessions, M/M, Superstitious family, They're both hopeless and hopelessly in love, akaashi likes starbursts idk why he just does, akaashi please open your eyes i beg of you, petition to put lights in the garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29583618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arleaux/pseuds/arleaux
Summary: Finally, Akaashi Keiji gets put in charge of caring for his family’s wisteria plant, a long lived heirloom his mother considers to be  a treasure.Already struggling with the new responsibility and other things in life, a new development arises: someone cut off its branches.--In other words, Akaashi falls victim to Bokuto's poetic fixations and the introspective need for something meaningful.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	my, your wisteria

**Author's Note:**

> When I think of Bokuto, I see him as a thoughtful guy who knows who he is, but learns in his youth how to execute emotions outside of the many sonnets he has in his head. Enjoy.

The wind was rude that morning. It blew pollen into his face. Keiji pinched his nose harshly to avoid a sneeze; make a wrong move and petals would fly all over the place.

“Keiji, do you think you got the details down? I can send a few videos, if you’d like.”

“No, it’s fine okaasan. Thank you.” 

He was to place compost under the plant every spring, remove half of the prior year’s growth during winter, prune even more during summer, and cut it back at least twice a month to avoid a floral hurricane. It didn’t need much watering, as it was quite the persistent species. Wisteria was an invasive pain in the ass, much like the chore itself. 

Yes, wisteria of all plants to take care of. And it was old, almost ancient. Keiji’s father admitted he didn’t think it was to last another two years, but his mother’s strong opinion always rose above the rest of the others’ at the table. She refused to be the line that trampled over the Akaashi family’s great wisteria plant. According to her, the action would bring about ten years of bad luck for both her and her grandchildren.

Keiji didn’t worry about the superstition all too much, because as part of his generation, he wasn’t planning on kids any time soon. It wasn’t just that, though, as he discovered young that he was interested more in boys than girls. Maybe if he one day got a child with his significant other (assuming he wouldn’t erode behind the desk of a business firm before finding one), he’d buy them a good luck charm or a shield against mirrors. 

His mother was consumed by the idea of a tradition, but just what was the tradition, this heritage? It was their own fault it wasn’t a plausible one. The heirloom wouldn't exist after two hundred-thirty years. Thinking about its pestering presence may have unnerved Keiji, and it took him a few tries to understand what sentimental value meant to his mother. 

Maybe it was a piece of her love language. Mrs. Akaashi’s love language was to let life flourish around her family. She revealed those gentle tendencies by putting plants in the house, cutting up fresh fruit in the afternoons, getting real christmas trees, and other things that eventually shriveled or went bare. It was a lot of cleaning up, at the end of the day, but love language matters. He respectfully took up the role as the giant plant nanny instead of doing his math notes with her in mind.

For him, he showed affection for someone by doing things for them, or by stating the obvious. He wasn’t one to flirt, as it felt ungenuine in some way. Keiji hoped that one day, the person who loved him would accept his love language like he would theirs. 

When they first arrived at the community garden, Keiji was taken aback by how spacious it was. The family moved the plant there in his last year of middle school because it took too much space in the yard. The garden was a perfect place for it, as it was practically a plant zoo. Hummingbirds made themselves known to the area with their soft buzzes, and rivalled the bees who had yet to show off.

They followed the path to the other section of the garden, and there, the Akaashi family wisteria tree stood among the collage of flora. A tree like that stuck out like a sore thumb, or a cloud swaying softly. Its petals were organic, muted amethysts that clutched to the branches.

For one of Keiji’s ninety-nine problems, it was a very pretty one. 

Keiji pruned the stems as his parents watched, and then they went home. 

The next morning featured no interesting developments. He went on with school, and at practice, he put up with Konoha’s middle school war stories that were accompanied by the others’ expected reactions. It was relaxed, and they were keeping the mood light before championships. Outside of bubbly conversation and bonding, everyone had their own different way to cope with the anxieties of interstellar performance. 

Konoha relived nostalgic tales and old memories, Komi did improv after school, Washio started taking candle classes with his grandma, and Sarukui did.. _something along the lines of rap and classical_. And Keiji wouldn’t even get started with Bokuto, who probably held jousting matches with Kuroo on the weekends.

“Yo, Akaashi-san!” Onaga called. “What’ve you been up to lately?”

Keiji finished tying his shoes and slung his bag over his shoulder. “It’s been the same, I guess.” 

“Maybe it’s different for second years, then. But we have ‘finals’ and then we have ‘finals. Could I give you some advice? When I was your age-” 

“Onaga stop, you’re scaring him away,” Sarukui reproached, caught off guard by the first year’s sense of elderly grace. “Akaashi-kun probably reads or something. Literature, Akaashi-kun? Roman-”

“Sarukui, quit it!” Washio stepped in. “What scents do you like, Akaashi-kun? For stress, I recommen-”

“Will everyone shut up?! I’m concentrating.”

Everyone turned to Konoha, who actually did seem to be concentrating. He stared almost too intensely at a piece of paper hanging on the wall, and then his eyes flickered to the stats list. 

“..I’m looking at our progress from the past few weeks. With what we got going on, I got no idea how we wouldn’t go to nationals.” The boys whistled to that one.

“I don’t know about that just yet, Konoha-san.” Konoha looked at Keiji curiously, to which Keiji continued. “If we want to get to the top two position I think I need to up my strength first.”

“You don’t strike me as the powerlifting type, Akaashi-kun.” 

He wasn’t. He gained most of his strength through practice, but his recently weakening tosses helped him conclude that he needed to do more. Could all the tending he’d have to do for the tree help him put on some muscle? It might as well, but Keiji had to go with other ideas in effort to achieve his goals.

“I’ll ask Bokuto-san to help me out,” he stated honestly. 

“Alright. Where is he, anyways?” Konoha asked the team and everyone shrugged except for Keiji. “He called me saying he had a last minute appointment today. He’ll probably be back tomorrow.” It was oddly quiet without Bokuto. If he had attended practice today, he probably would’ve made fun of Keiji for the romance novels Sarukui suspected he read, or by surprising Keiji and hoisting him up in the air when Konoha disregarded him as a powerlifter. There were a number of things Bokuto could’ve done that day if he was there, and a part of Keiji wished those were actual memories instead of hypothetical scenarios, those types of things that never failed to make him chuckle on the walk home. 

Bokuto Koutarou had been acting weird at the time. Normally, when Keiji asked him a question, he’d answer without hesitation. However, for the past month and a half, most answers came in the form of the question, reversed. Cryptic Bokuto is an unnatural one.

Maybe there were some things that Keiji couldn’t do, like make hypothetical conclusions on why the captain he thought about so frequently started to get really close, but run to the other side of the gym, then to the locker room and back to practice even if it wasn’t over yet. He had also started mirroring Keiji’s stance in conversation. For instance, Keiji had this way of fidgeting with his fingers and putting his left foot forward, and he never imagined Bokuto to do anything but stand confidently like the world was happy to see him. 

Keiji’s analysis would be saved for another time. He had three tests and a home-course in plant ecology to study for. 

Everyone washed up and changed into their other clothes, ready to end the day at school and start doing whatever it was that teenage boys did on a Friday night. Washio looked a little dismayed, as his grandma dropped their plans that day for his cousin, but he wasn’t one to voice his complaints. He walked with the club through the hallway, sipping his water and pondering homework. 

“Akaashi-kun, what _are_ you up to tonight?” Konoha asked, and Keiji looked straight ahead as they went through the exit of the school. “A multitude of things, but nothing interesting enough to explain in full detail, Konoha-san. Everyone, have a good night.” They issued their farewells, and Keiji separated from the group. 

It was a bit windy that night, just like the day he’d been given the wisteria. Wind blew kisses at his forehead and he had to squint a few times on his walk in effort to avoid spring’s pollen again. In the corner of his eye, he caught Bokuto. Bokuto had this usual spot on the block that he hung out at sometimes: a small comic stand that sold snacks, chili dogs, and occasionally antique items. 

Keiji always passed by the set up on the way home, but rarely he was there at the same time as Bokuto. 

As he got closer, he caught Bokuto’s attention. Bokuto didn’t sport the regular spiky hair look and the strands appeared fluffier than usual. Was he not feeling it that day? 

“Akaashi! Hey, sorry I couldn’t get to practice today something came up. Weird, right? Not totally weird but I’ll be back tomorrow.” He laughed and did the fidget thing, which Keiji eyed mindfully. “Anything..happen while I was out Akaashi?”

“No, Bokuto-san. I’m sure things will pick up when you’re back.”

“Aha, so I’m still the life of the party, huh? Feels good.”

Keiji scoffed, but gave in to the boast. “You’ll always be.”

Bokuto’s expression shifted, noticeably surprised. “You don’t have to give me all the credit. The others are fun, of course, when Sarukui isn’t driving Konoha crazy or if Onaga’s not trying to impress that girl from class 3B.” 

“Isn’t that every five minutes?” Keiji asked.

“Every two,” Bokuto blurted. 

“Well, if Onaga claims he’s a natural born gentleman, I’ll believe him. I hope things work out for the best for him and her.” 

Bokuto nodded, “yeah. I agree, Akaashi.”

“He has time I suppose, with those two years he still has at school. And on the team.”

“Yeah, I agree..”

“Hmm.. something on your mind, Bokuto-san? You seem troubled. I don’t usually see you like this.” Keiji got a bit closer in an effort to read him, but stepped back in case he was crossing into uncharted territory. Bokuto looked unfazed, and his look didn’t waver. 

“Just, time flies, right? That’s crazy,” he admitted. Keiji agreed, wistfully, and Bokuto was the same. He struggled to get the words out, “Akaashi, I have something to--”

“Wait a moment, what time is it?” Keiji interrupted. Rattled, maybe even deterred, Bokuto checked his phone. “Eight thirty?” At the report, Keiji groaned and regretfully shoved the apple into his bag. “I’m sorry Bokuto-san, I need to go now. Go home soon and get rest, and study, please. We won’t get to semifinals if you get another 47.”

“H-hey! Don’t tell anyone, Akaashi! And I am studying, y’know, I’m gonna ace the next one.”

“What’s the cofunction identity for tangent?” 

“Shit.” 

“Wrong answer. Goodbye, Bokuto-san.” He wished Bokuto farewell and headed on his way. Meanwhile, Bokuto told himself to suck up his defeat and went back as well; at least he’d get to see two fantastic things that day.

Keiji’s bag almost banged against the door frame when he got home. He knew it was a bad idea to postpone studying for his math test for those flowers, so who was he to critique Bokuto on being a model student? Their grades weren’t the same, so it gave him at least some anchorage as vice-captain or someone who genuinely wanted success for their peers. If he didn’t cram at least an hour of study time for his own math test, he was certain the highest he could get on it was a B. When he completed his notes that night, his mind kept on returning to Bokuto and what he had to say before he left. Keiji felt slightly penitent on the way things ended, but the gate to his house locked automatically after nine and he didn’t have enough energy to jump the fence that day. As he slept, both that and the plant plagued the themes of his dreams.

When he woke up, Saturday greeted him like a truck with its headlights on. His bags were packed the night before, so all he had to do was head down there. Mr. and Mrs. Akaashi were sound asleep as Keiji exited their home, lugging around oversized pliers and a wheelbarrow full of soil at five in the morning. The rules of the garden was that you had to bring your own supplies, which meant he couldn’t use the train. 

It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend the first portion of his weekend, but he trudged on. To Keiji, it was amazing how one person could sweat so much after a one hour hike. Sure, he was technically an athlete, but the work still had him wheezing after the third hilly road. He unlocked the garden and wheeled in his stuff upon arrival, and expected the sun to rise at any moment. 

As it ascended, golden rays gently trickled along the pastels and greenery, granting Keiji the spectacular view to an aesthetic no one else would be able to find this deep in Tokyo. It also made him forget about the way his shirt clung to his back.

He walked along the trail, pushing his things and admiring the year’s beautiful spring. He failed to remember too often, how valuable of an element nature really is. Maybe, just maybe, his mother was r--

“What the fuck?” Keiji felt every determined particle in his soul disintegrate, and they left his body as he breathed heavily. The Akaashi family’s wisteria tree was severed majorly. Three of its branches were completely missing and a large chunk of the parts he had been intending to keep were gone. He sunk to his knees, did a couple breathing exercises, and then examined it further to assess the rest of the damage.

The question for Keiji was no longer what, but who. Who would waltz into a community garden on a Friday night and chop up an ancient tree, and just leave the pruning pieces? Clearly, whoever did this was either a hooligan or out for blood. At the time, he was more concerned than angered. Concerned for both the possible hater and his mom’s possible ass whooping. The only curse looming over him for the next decade would be the eternal hand mark on his right cheek. 

Fearful, he called Konoha. The phone rang a few times, and then he answered. “Uhuh, sup,” he greeted groggily.

“Konoha-san, are you free today?”

“I mean I guess, it’s like seven in the morning.”

“Perfect, I need your help. Please, can you stop at the community garden by Shinobazu Pond? It’s urgent.”

“Dude, can’t you call your parents for this..?”

“ _No_ ,” he forced through the phone.

“Okay, okay, good morning to you too I guess. I’ll be there in thirty minutes?”

  
“Alright, I appreciate it Konoha-san.” 

They hung up and Keiji waited. When Konoha arrived, Keiji waved him over. “Alright, alright I’m here so what’s the situation?” He asked. Keiji pointed over to the tree, and when Konoha looked over, he immediately covered his mouth. “Oh..” 

“I’m flattered you care about this tree so much,” Keiji commented. “I need your help making it look like it wasn’t vandalized. I’ll treat you out to lunch later as a thank you.”

Konoha shrugged, looking away from the tree. Soon enough, they got to work. 

“I honestly have no idea how this happened,” Keiji said as he placed some soil. “It could be random, but I’m also considering it possible for it to be a crime of passion.”

“Oh, it was definitely a crime of passion alright..”

“Huh?” Keiji lowered his shovel and looked at his digging partner. Quickly, Konoha corrected himself. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking, uh, like who would go way out here just for some random tree? They must really hate you, dude!”

“So you agree, then.”

“Totally. Not a doubt about it,” Konoha internally grimaced at his own comment. If he had a business motto, it would be ‘Konoha Akinori: making things worse since 1994’. He didn’t bother speaking for the ten minutes after. He was good at keeping secrets. The only hard part was actually keeping it.

Once they finished, it looked more like a tree from the lorax than anything else. It was very “retro” for being over two hundred years old. 

“Well, look on the bright side, Akaashi-kun. You have experience now.”

“Because I aged an extra seven years today?” Keiji replied, even more unhinged. 

Konoha laughed to break the tension. “Sure, we’ll go with that..” 

When they finished, both of them looked amess. Keiji had been drenched even before the sun rose, but once daytime was fully established, Konoha had the audacity to call him a raisin mid-transformation. Keiji said he wasn’t one to talk though, as he told the other that his hair stuck to his head like a well-greased bowling pin. Konoha wasn’t entirely sure where all this sass came from, but it was a good outlet for Keiji, and besides, he was his year’s class clown. 

They washed up in the community bathrooms and wheeled the supplies back to Keiji’s house. Keiji and Konoha spent too many hours outdoors that day, staying twice as long as Keiji expected. And, like promised, Keiji treated Konoha to food. They ate takeout, engaged in oddball conversation, and then Konoha headed home after twenty rounds of Keiji’s grateful acknowledgements. 

It was late into the afternoon, and he used the rest of the day to trap himself into his studies. Toward the end of his session, his mom stopped by his room. “Kun, did you prune the tree today?” Understatement.

“Yes, okaasan. I got back a few hours ago.”

“Great, we’ll go see it tomorrow then.”

“No! I mean, okaasan, how about in a couple weeks? I want to get it in top condition for when family visits during the break.”

“Very well, very well. Anyways, your father and I are going out. Do you want us to bring you anything?” 

“I still have some leftovers here, okaasan. Thanks.” His mother nodded and closed the door. Once he saw them walk out the door from his window, he blasted his music and continued drilling through his homework. 

Over the next two weeks, Keiji pondered. He viewed his environment with a temporary lens, one that could’ve belonged to any world class detective. Every morning, when he went to check on the tree, he photographed the ground for foot prints. On one occasion, he visited a worker nearby to ask a few questions, like if anyone odd visited the Akaashi Tree or headed through the garden that Friday. He didn’t get a lead, only more motivation to catch the guy.

For a second, he considered his own peers as the culprit. He dismissed it soon after, but what if someone really did have it out for him? There was no way he’d provoked anyone to the point of attempted tree homicide. He side-eyed a few people during matches, but that was all he could recall. 

Keiji was already hyper aware of most actions directed towards him. It was a matter of instinct that grew into a strength. And on the fourteenth day, he used it at its fullest, finally getting a lead.

It had to be someone from the volleyball team. The assertion stuck to him like a sticky note, and he didn’t like it. During his period of uncertainty, his teammates pointed out how off he acted lately. 

“Akaashi-kun, you good?” Washio asked after practice concluded . 

“Yes, is something wrong?”

“I’ve just noticed you were zoning out a lot. Don’t overthink championships. Bokuto’s in the locker room right now, but he’d probably say the same thing.”

Keiji thanked him and assured everything was fine. For starters, the culprit definitely wasn’t Washio. He was too nice and had no motive. 

Konoha wasn’t either. Keiji didn’t tell him, but he actually saw his location the night of the attack. He also was too grateful to see Konoha as suspicious. Meanwhile, Onaga had a date around the time, and Sarukui was doing god knows what down in Bunkyo. 

So, that only really left Bokuto. The Bokuto Keiji saw standing happily by the magazine stand, the one who lit up his day at the drop of a hat, or with small interactions that made his palms sweat.

“Hey.”

Keiji turned around to see Bokuto, who hadn’t been on the same side of the gym long enough to hold a conversation that day. They worked together on their spikes and tosses, but other than that, Bokuto was sort of distant. Keiji didn’t know how to feel about any of it. All he felt he could do was stand back and allow Bokuto to live how he pleased. He greeted him back. “Hey, Bokuto-san. What’s up?” 

“Can I talk to you, outside?” Bokuto’s surprised Keiji, but he was nevertheless glad to hear that Bokuto wanted to talk. He said yes, and they went into the field by the gym. The two of them were alone there, enjoying a sunset they barely would’ve noticed if not in each other’s company. 

“So, this is.. about what I wanted to tell you a week or two ago. I take it back. I’m not ready yet, Akaashi.” 

  
Whatever Bokuto was saying perplexed the other. “Alright, Bokuto-san. If there’s anything you do want to talk about in the future, though, please tell me because I’m right here.” Keiji placed a hand on the other’s shoulder, and stayed there for a moment before heading back inside. As he walked away, he looked behind him to get one last look at his captain and friend, then went home. 

The tree had been doing better for being in recovery. It had already developed a couple more branches, and petals budded valiantly. Truly, the plant’s desire to conquer, its unceasing need to take over the whole space, was completely astounding. In no time, the wisteria tree would be presentable for the relatives visiting during the school break.

A bit of time passed, and midterms flew by easily. The plant fiasco inspired him to create an entire schedule for study time and his tree agenda, so things were balanced for the time being. 

At the games, Fukurodani conquered. They won left and right, leaving no stone unturned. Spring high tournaments always set a fire within the sport, leading them all the way to semifinals. Keiji was thankful for his teammates, for they had performed remarkably well for the stress they felt beforehand. When he closed his eyes on the bus back to school, he re-envisioned how it looked to stand behind Bokuto as he led them to victory. His thoughts slowly drifted, and he then re-envisioned how it looked to stand with Bokuto under their field’s sunset. 

He kept his eyes open the rest of the way. 

Around nine, Keiji finally shuffled back into his house. His mother prepared some form of soup and placed it on the table. “Ah, kun you’re finally home. Hungry? I got some new things from the market.” Before he wanted to decline so he could get ahead on his upcoming essay, his stomach growled rudely, making him obligated to sit down. The soup, like everything else his mom put forth, was full of life. Vivid color from the vegetables swirled around in his bowl.

“So, your great grandparents are coming by in a week. That’s when your break starts, correct?” She asked, and Keiji confirmed it. His mother clasped her hands together happily and spooned more food into her son’s bowl. “I take it the tree’s doing well?” She’d only asked that a few times before, understanding that Keiji didn’t feel the need to report the same thing over and over again. The upcoming arrival of family changed things. 

Keiji confirmed things were “as usual” but didn’t give any detail on how exactly it was doing. The wisteria looked far better than how he left it before, and it should have seemed normal by the time they arrived. 

Fast came the days before they’d actually arrive. He had already said goodbye to his peers, who were, in complete honesty, excited to not see each other for a good few weeks. And, the goodbye at practice included a big group hug and Konoha being suffocated in it. He lived, thankfully, and they all went on their way to enjoy whatever spring break had to offer. 

Things were good for Keiji. He got over the hurdle of dealing with that plant, school was alright, and they were winning at games. Though, it would’ve been amazing if the thought of Bokuto that day in the field never stood with him. 

On his daily strolls by the magazine stand, a part of Keiji hoped Bokuto was there, buying some terrible shonen update or year old snacks. He wasn’t, however, and Keiji purchased his stale starbursts alone. 

Minutes ticked like weak mosquitoes, moments passed like staggering dragonflies. It hadn’t even been a day yet, and he already missed the energy. Standing by the magazines helped him realize that some people are like fuel to others. His laugh, his energy, his very presence felt renewing to Keiji. That was before Bokuto’s inner conflict. 

He knew he wasn’t able to control everything. Bokuto was a free spirit who had the right to be unpredictable when he desired it. The one thing Keiji had the most control over in those times was the wisteria plant; it was a responsibility that wouldn’t last forever, but he would make it count. 

The night before the arrival, he stopped by the garden once more, this time by train. He had never seen the habitat under the full moon before, and its beauty enraptured him. As he walked the trail, he turned in all directions until he was a bit dizzy. Keiji was completely enamoured with the feeling of love and wanted to share the view with someone. His fingers lightly grazed the vines of shrubs and tranquil trees that were tender with flowers.

There, at that moment, Akaashi Keiji realized something he hadn’t before. Whenever he wished for someone by his side, it was always the same person. The same distinct, familiar face came to mind when he looked at his lips in the mirror, as he wished for someone to joke with, and even, but not all the time, when he looked at the wisteria tree. Bokuto Koutarou needed to stop playing with Keiji’s head, and soon. 

Actually, Bokuto’s deviant, dashing mug flung from his mind when he got to the tree. “..Are you…are you fucking kidding me?!” 

The culprit got to the tree, again. And it was even worse this time. The branches were robbed hastily, he could tell from the messy footwork and the trail left behind. Keiji didn’t bother to pick it up until he fully repressed his urge to scream into the pond nearby. 

The relatives would be there in eight hours. There was no way in hell the plant would go back to normal in a thousand of them. 

By those hours, Keiji approximated he was officially screwed. Where he stood, he considered fleeing the country to avoid his mother’s charged exorcism. He silently sunk to the ground and lied down onto the sidewalk.

_Bicyclists, just trample me already._

He laid there until the grounds worker nudged his face a bit with his boot. “Hey there, kiddo.. It’s getting late. What happened?”

“Sir, that person returned and completely lacerated the tree. Forgive me for lying here, but I sort of need this right now.”

“Okay, do you need me to call you parents or something?”

“ _No_.”

“Sheesh, alright. This is what I get for being a civil servant, you know, back in m---”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Calling anyone won't be necessary. I intend on staying here. Until all of this.. stuff.. is cleaned up.”

“Okay, then. Need some help? My shift doesn’t end for a good few hours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure.”

The grounds worker was a nice guy. He was a young adult who seemed to at least partially understand the teenage mind. Normally, Keiji would come with the wheelbarrow, but he made the dire mistake of taking the train instead. The grounds worker saw the light leave Keiji’s eyes when it daunted him, so he let him use his supplies instead. 

There wasn’t much to work with, so they trimmed around the edges and positioned the flowing petals to make it appear less sparse. “Well.. this is the Akaashi Tree,” he commented like it was an introduction.

Keiji pressed a hand against his forehead, staring at the dirt. “..Yes it is.”

“Mhm, get some rest I guess. It’s too dangerous to be walking around Tokyo this late.” They said their goodbyes, and Keiji uneasily walked home. What would he tell his mother? Her whole philosophy revolved around that thing. Her love language construct would cease to exist, be mute. But he had to tell her, there was no sense in keeping her first learning at the same time as her relatives. 

He opened the door, and in the kitchen waited Mrs. Akaashi. She had her phone pressed against her left ear, which her black hair hid. Upon seeing him, she hung up and tossed it to the couch. “Keiji! Where were you?! I was about to call someone, you know gates close after nine.”

“I’m sorry, okaasan. I was at the gardens.”

“At this hour? Why?” 

“Well, there’s something I need to tell you. Or show you, really.” His honesty kept her silent, and he pulled out his phone to show her a few pictures that he took before the left. “This is the wisteria plant, I’m really sorry. I did what I could.”

“Keiji. Just what the hell did you do to the thing?” 

“Okaasan, I can ex--”

“It looks like a _popsicle_! How do you think you can explain that? It's a tree, not a lopsided coat hanger, kun! What will your grandfather say about this? Or your auntie and uncle Ezo?” 

“Ma--”

“Keiji, no. You’re grounded, for six weeks.” She glared at her son, refusing to back down. Defeated, he sighed and gave up. There was no way he could just say someone rolled in there and played barber. “Very well,” he said, compressing his anger, “have a good night, then.” 

She said nothing as he went upstairs and seeked refuge within his room. That night, he played his study music a bit louder in his worn out headphones to filter out the novel in his head; he had so many other things to be doing besides looking after some garden weed, so if he was grounded anyways, it was more a reason to start then and there.

His aunt, uncle, and grandparents were shocked the next morning. Keiji’s grandma almost fainted, but the eighteen sugar oolong tea she had on the way there stopped her from doing so. “Kun... you’re cursed for one hundred years! This is blasphemy!” 

“Okaasan, it’s just a flower plant,” his father said to his mother as he tried to stand up for his son. Keiji felt slightly relieved, despite how everyone else kept their adamance toward the ordeal. His grandmother yelled at the skies, begging whatever strange force she believed in to spare him of his wrongful deed. Empty in both mind and soul, he sipped on his own tea while waiting for the three hour long tree revival session to finish. 

The break he’d been looking forward to for three months was canceled, his family saw him as a demon child raised on the asphalt of sabotage, he was touch starved, and he had to live on frozen rice balls and instant coffee for the next six weeks. 

At that point, he barely even felt angry at his tree assaultist. Everything he felt was froth sitting on top of his brew of emotions, like the lukewarm tea swishing in the cup that he clasped in his agile hands. He sipped, and sipped, and sipped.

Love language. How ridiculous. What made him actually believe that it was an actual concept? It’s not like he liked leaves, anyways. Lettuce always got soggy and many flowers smelled nothing like the perfumes his mom sprayed around the house. 

And if love language was real, why couldn’t he make his own be easy to understand, comprehensible? Why couldn’t he learn about the ones outside of his family’s? About Bokuto’s? Why couldn’t he be less dismissive about everything and listen to what people had to say? If he listened to the news about the tree hating radicals of the city, maybe he wouldn’t have been in this mess. If he listened to Bokuto, maybe he would’ve told Keiji what was on his mind. If he listened to himself, maybe he’d stop living in his head and start voicing his own perspective on everything sitting idly under the froth of the tea that was his life. 

He sipped. 

It was whatever. He’ll have some control if that stupid tree grew back, or if he could find the petals for repentance. If his hypothetical grandkids hated him already, then what was the rush? 

They headed home and ate dinner. As Keiji ate his rice, his grandma observed him strenuously, like she was waiting for the rice to go down the wrong pipe at any minute. “Obaachan, I don’t think supper will be the thing that does me over.” 

She loomed over him and sprayed his food with a special lemongrass water. Later, she justified it as purification. 

He finished his long day by lethargically laying on his bed, while also reflecting on his life as a hopeless teenager. It was another Friday night, and he was shut in his room after being framed for plant battery. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone, so he flicked open his phone. Keiji never ranted about his own problems, but listening to others made him feel better sometimes.

At first, no one on his messaging app was online, but after a minute of lurking, Bokuto’s icon had a green dot sitting by it. It was always Bokuto who sought Keiji out first, and Keiji didn’t initiate it this time either, for the other’s space. As he moved to shut his phone off, text bubbles popped up in his inbox. 

His heart skipped a beat. 

**k_bokutooo** Akaashi   
**k_bokutooo** I’m not sure if ur up to anything tomorrow, but if ur not, please meet me somewhere in the morning  
**k_bokutooo** it’s taken me a bit too long to do this, so don’t go if you don’t want to   
**k_bokutooo** i’ll send you the location

Bokuto attached a screenshot from his map app, and the blue circle was placed directly by Shinobazu Pond. It piqued Keiji’s interest too much, he had almost forgotten to respond. 

Bokuto-san, I’ll go. Will seven work? Before it gets too hot outside. **Akaashi_k**

 **K_bokutooo** yeah, that works fine. It’ll take me a little while to get there so take your time and stuff   
**K_bokutooo** thank you

Bokuto issued a formal thank you _and_ he didn’t use emojis. It must’ve been serious. The location was ominous as well, so Keiji wondered what Bokuto planned as the night went on. 

After some relatively decent sleep, he leaped out of bed. Six in the morning was better than five, or however early he used to wake up when caring for the wisteria. He showered, using his favorite shampoo deliberately so he could watch the bubbles trickle down his shoulders. He picked out a good outfit, one that he only wore when feeling confident, or as his grandma called it, saucy. The outfit definitely looked simple for other people, but to him it was a ceremonial fit that acted as a shield for his confidence.

As he left, he left quietly, because the thing about being grounded was that you’re technically grounded. Keiji wasn’t allowed to leave the house for anything but urgent matters. 

He thought it was urgent, and took the morning train. 

Akaashi Keiji should have been tired of seeing the gates to the community garden. Most of the time he was, but not that morning. The entire season of spring had been ejected, mentally, but he couldn’t control his heartbeat as the sun rose above the earth. It was his eternal struggle, or one of the many wars he had going on in his mind. 

If Bokuto had chosen this place, what did it mean?

Bokuto, what are you up to?

The gates opened easily, like they always had. He walked the path, considering the possibilities and calming the nervy feeling in his lungs and under his skin. Keiji felt silly in his confidence-shirt, a bit mousy or skittish. 

But he was finally ready, ready for every--

“What the fuck.” 

The petals. They were spread loosely on top of the grass and formed a little trail. The wisteria killer was _here_. 

And he was being taunted. He didn’t like that at all. Finally, he got to meet his enemy face to face. After weeks of waiting, silently watching only to be sabotaged at the last minute, he would unveil his framer. 

Slowly, he followed the line to a small opening of some nearby hedges. He grabbed a branch, ready to defend himself at a moment’s notice, or, if the occasion called for it, strike whoever was waiting inside. His head peaked beyond the push, and he got a damned good look at the perpetrator. 

Beyond the garden, there was a snake. According to the abstrute texts of the ancients, it brought both knowledge and destruction. Keiji hated how it also brought butterflies; if only its wings didn’t feel like stingers in his stomach. 

Keiji dropped the branch, startling no one other than Bokuto Koutarou. He stepped forward, and Bokuto turned around. 

“Akaashi, you made it...thank you.” 

He said nothing, waiting for Bokuto to continue. 

“So I prepared this, uh, for you. It took me a few times to not be a baby and chicken out, but we’re here, so I guess it’s time. Here it goes,” he took a deep breath, not taking his eyes off of Keiji.

“I like you, Akaashi Keiji. You’re on my mind every damned day and I… Akaashi? Are you okay?” 

Akaashi nodded, and then smiled. “Bokuto-san…”

“Y-yeah? Say anything.” Bokuto neared Keiji apprehensively, stepping over the hundreds of petals scattered everywhere. Keiji lifted his head slowly.

“Bokuto-san, prepare to die.” His smile revealed clench teeth. 

“Haha very funny is that a… threat.. or a.. new way to flirt or something?” 

“. .Run.” 

So Bokuto ran. He sprinted and Keiji chased him soon after. He flew, but Keiji soared. It made Bokuto wonder how the other got so fast. He brushed through the bushes like a wraith in those fantasy films, and once Bokuto escaped the thick woods, he picked up the speed. Behind him, Bokuto heard the sound of an angry growl.

“HHH.HH...HEHEHEEELLLLLP! Someone help me the--” a rodent ---”my dream boy’s gonna KILL me I’m gonna DIEEEE!” 

“Get your ass over here. I’m DECIMATING you!” 

“Is that what this is about? Damn it Akaashi I suck at trig, you know that! AH--FUCK!”

“It’s a roman punishment, you bastard!” 

As Keiji chased Bokuto in circles, an elderly couple a bridge or two away looked up from feeding the doves. “Honey…do you hear that? I think a man-child is wailing,” one croaked. 

“No, dear, I don’t hear a thing,” his partner replied. He gasped and pointed at the direction he heard the sound in. “There’s _two_ man-children. Do you think it’s a brawl? I love brawls.” 

“Goodness, you’re losing it from old age, aren’t you? Come along, we’re going inside now.” The two gentlemen ended their afternoon for early bird supper. 

Away from the bystanders, Keiji moved left, then right, trying to corner Bokuto on the field. Bokuto hopped in alternating directions like a rabbit, so at some point it became all they did. When Bokuto slipped away from Keiji, he ran the wrong way and tumbled into the soft grass. With not a moment to spare, Keiji pounced and trapped Bokuto under his weight, both arms pinned down and hands firm around his wrists. 

“H-hey Akaashi.. What’s up?...”

“Bokuto-san, relax, I’m not actually going to kill you,” he said, and Bokuto exhaled out too soon, “I didn’t bring my wheelbarrow.”

“AKA--”

“Relax, relax, sorry I was joking again. Am I not allowed to joke, Bokuto-san?” 

“Not when you’re straddling me as an executioner. Now, why exactly are you chasing me?”

“Are you serious? You know what you did,” Keiji stated angrily. Bokuto pursed his lip, still on the ground. “No, I don’t think I do. Great job scaring the shit out of me though.”

“Thank you, I try,” Keiji replied contently, but his expression darkened right after. “How do you not know what you did? Didn’t you see the sign?!” 

“..Sign?”

“The sign, the _sign_! You ripped up my mother’s irrational heirloom! And to spell out letters! I am grounded for six weeks and three hours, Bokuto-san! And my grandmother thinks I’ve got ten years of karma on my name!”

Bokuto thought back for a moment, breaking into a sweat. It was dark both times when he visited the garden, so he never really caught no sign. “It said community garden…”

“That doesn’t mean dibs.” 

Actually, it did. The Akaashi family’s fatal flaw was that they chose the wrong garden for their expensive transport. Hoseki garden was right across the street, and people had been taking petals off that tree for a couple of years. It wasn’t until Bokuto came around with the ultimate motive that it ever became noticeable.

“Why did you even go that far to say you’re fond of me, anyways?” 

“Well, if you let me finish my--”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Because I’m kind of madly in love with you, if you haven’t fucking noticed yet! And I feel like it’s gotten to the point where I can’t think of anything but being with you when you’re around me while I have to be an actual human being for more than eight breaths.”

Keiji didn’t remember what he was going to say, before that. He pulled himself off of Bokuto and allowed the both of them to sit up in the field. Bokuto continued.

“Everything about you I love, Akaashi. You’re.. amazing, you’re smart, you’re funny, and oh my god, you’re so _hot_ for like no reason at all, and I can’t write it down without it sounding uncoordinated or insincere because I get so excited when I talk about you. I guess, you can say it wasn’t ever meant to be..” Bokuto struggled to find the word, or words. 

“..the way you express that you care about someone?” Keiji asked.

Bokuto nodded. “Yeah, that.” He carried on. 

“You know those stands? The ones I thank the vendors for every day because they’re placed where I get to see you for an extra fifteen minutes?” Bokuto asked, and Keiji confirmed, red-faced. 

“I mean, obviously, but anyways back to the point. I was hanging there sometime ago, and I saw this little bonsai tree for sale. It said wisteria on the tag with all these symbols for what it meant, things like encouragement, and beauty, and resilience, or anything really that reminded me of you.

I took a day off practice to buy it because I was a coward and still didn’t know how to get through to you, and it was sold out. So I was really bummed at first, but then I thought my luck crawled back to me because I saw it here. 

Long story short, I cut the tree. And yes, I’m super sorry, it won’t happen again. You won't be bothered by missing branches for a third time in a row, and I’ll leave it alone for good.”

He pulled out some money from his back pocket and handed it to Keiji. “Tree reimbursement.”

Keiji lifted his hand to interject, not willingly taking it.

“It’s fine, really I had this saved up--”

“Bokuto-san. It’s my turn to talk.” Keiji sat down, and Bokuto listened. 

“When you started talking with me less, I got sort of scared. I know how you are, and outside of volleyball, you tend to get over hurdles by yourself. I wish I could’ve just talked to you instead of watching the days go by. 

We don’t live in an hourglass, so I need to start acting like it.” He leaned closer, to get a good look at Bokuto.

“You don’t need to show your love upon first confessing, Bokuto-san. That happens during the relationship, and besides,” he placed a light kiss on Bokuto’s forehead, then slightly pulled away. “You’re always sincere.” 

“Even when I mess up?” Bokuto asked, and Keiji tilted his head to the side. 

“Yes, even when you mess up. I do, too.” 

“Okay, thanks, Akaashi.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

They both stood up and walked back to the little spot Bokuto first led Keiji to. Upon seeing the flowers once again, Keiji noticed how it actually looked quite romantic. The flowers formed a heart on the grass, and there was a small basket full of everything Keiji liked: onigiri, starbursts, those light up sparklers he could only find on new years, and a picture of them. 

“Well, this is kind of an awkward start to our unrequited love story.” Bokuto forced out. “We’re even standing a heart of petals I stole from your bloodline.”

Keiji raised an eyebrow and poked lightly at his arm. “Why unrequited?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you like me back..””

“Bokuto-san. I kissed your forehead in the middle of a field that was abundant with tinges of pastels and romance, so I believe that communicated the message.”

“That was pretty thought provoking.” 

Keiji moved from the petals to where Bokuto stood and pulled Bokuto closer. “Hmm, maybe this would bring more emphasis?” He proposed, and then gently tugged Bokuto’s collar so the other’s face met his. 

A real kiss. 

On a Saturday morning, behind a shrub of bushes where no one could see them, two of the biggest dorks in the world shared their first kiss. And it was a nice kiss, too. Nothing sloppy like the two have heard their friends complaining about, but maybe it was because they liked each other too much to care. 

Bokuto’s eyes were still open, the first moment of their kiss. But as his mind established that what was happening was real, he leaned in and returned Keiji’s passion. He laughed into this kiss, and found his arms around Keiji’s waist. Keiji’s spearmint breath mingled with Bokuto’s as he laughed with him, already hugging Bokuto’s neck. 

“God, we’re hopeless,” Bokuto spoke after they both pulled away. He felt Keiji’s chest move as he laughed.

“I'll agree with you on that one, Bokuto-san. But I kind of prefer it that way if we it means we'll keep doing stuff like this." 

"Haha, like this?" Bokuto pressed a peck on Keiji's lips again, and his whole face turned crimson as he nodded. After that, he returned a million pecks and twice as many kisses.

Their second and third kisses were slightly more awkward. The silly duo liked to rush in too fast, but there was no need to raise any concern if it only meant they'd have plenty of agreeable do-overs.

It wasn’t the field that Keiji imagined at sunset, or even near skyfall, but he was with Bokuto and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His little morning was even worth the earful he received from his mother when he got home.

And his grandma.

Not to mention, his auntie and uncle Ezo. 

And the six weeks of imprisonment, as well as an extra two days for collateral.

But as he returned to the real world, he got to see the tree again. Bokuto had taken good care of it while he was stuck in his room, and they got to see it bloom for the millionth time. 

Both the time transcending wisteria and their love language.

-

-

-

“Hey, did Konoha-san know about your plan, Bokuto-san?”

“I texted him about the flower heart thing but that was it. Konoha visited you for something, right? He applied for a delivery gig because apparently the pizza you got him was 'that' good.”

"Okay, call him up then." 

"For takeout?"

"Nope." 

Koutarou rung the phone and Konoha picked it up. "Yyyello?"

"Hey dude. Run."

The line clicked, and Konoha put on his tennis shoes. 

[The end.] 

**Author's Note:**

> They really need to invest in lights at the garden so all of Tokyo won’t strip down that tree. 
> 
> Hope you guys liked this one! You can find me on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/krispykeiji)


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